This Too Shall Pass

     Just under 2 years ago we experienced Hurricane Matthew.  It's a storm that lives in infamy as Florence will.  It will be a hurricane that others are compared to, like Fran, Floyd, Isabel, Irene, Matthew.  Around here we ask, did your house flood during Floyd?  During Matthew?  When I was in Oriental this past week they asked the same, did it get up that high during Irene?  Matthew was devastating for our community, and it crippled our fall season as our maze was standing in chest deep water.  It looked like the corn was mostly still standing, so we thought hopefully when the waters receded we would be alright.  We were wrong.  There was so much debris in the water (if you haven't experienced it you cannot imagine the power of water.  Incredible.), and when it settled it ruined the maze.  We're talking rafts two feet thick filled with my neighbors corn stalks, old tires, buckets, more drink bottles and cans than you can count, tree limbs and branches, you name it we found it.  

Aftermath of Hurricane Matthew

Aftermath of Hurricane Matthew

Aftermath of Hurricane Matthew

     After it was over, we sat dumbfounded that this was our new reality.  Of course we knew it was possible.  Our farm flooded in Floyd.  Yet that was supposed to be a 500 year flood, and here we were experiencing a worse one not 20 years later.  The Husband talked about building a berm across the part of our farm that floods and many solutions to stop the waters from inundating our place.  I disagreed.  I look at the Outer Banks, where people are trying to force something which has been transient for hundreds of years into something solid so they can build a house or a road on it, and every storm that comes the water and wind decide differently and open new inlets or erode more of the beach.  It's a shame for us because we love the beach and enjoy going, and it's a shame for homeowners trying to fight nature, but that's just what these coastal islands were meant to do (now don't get all offended.  I am in no way saying we shouldn't have beach houses or beach communities.  I'm just saying the islands were never meant to be permanent).  That example led me to believe that our only option was to never plant or build anything beyond our little hill that we couldn't stand to lose.  We can't stop the flood water.  The only thing we can do is try and work with it.  He eventually came around to my way of thinking.

     But this was the problem with that solution, the best corn land is in the flood plain (corn is a crop that can't withstand droughts as well as cotton or even soybeans, and in our area we can have dry summers, so our heavy wet-leaning river land is great for corn, of course).  So our idea to never plant the corn maze back in that field created another problem...where do you put it?  Last year we put it up in what we call the front field.  Well, we were late planting (our goal is always July 15) which wouldn't have been a big deal in the heavy wet flood plain but up on the lighter-soiled, drier front field the corn couldn't make up the time.  Then the grass came in.  The seed were donated and we weren't sure it was round-up ready.  We sprayed a couple test plots and it nearly killed the corn so we decided not to spray the entire field and the grass almost choked out the corn.  It was a disaster.  Eventually in places it got up high but for the most part the maze wasn't waist high.  Some people liked that because of the claustrophobic nature of corn, but it also turned people off because corn mazes are supposed to be tall and high, and impossible to get out of.  It was a major disappointment for us and we were determined not to have a repeat in 2018.

     Well 2018 has been a weather shi* storm (excuse the language, I'm just a cusser).  During strawberries it was so wet and hot it ended the season early.  Then June and half of July we got no rain at all.  0 inches of rain.  That's a critical time for crops.  Most everyone we know lost their corn crops (because not only does it need a lot of rain, but the temps must be right when it's pollinating or it won't), we had a sweet corn crop never make an ear.  It got so bad even the dang grass wouldn't grow.  And then in the middle of July someone turned the faucet on.  We were glad at first because it was about the time we planted the maze and we needed rain.  We moved it from where it was last year to an area to the side where we'd had it before.  The land was wetter in places, and we like to rotate crops as much as possible.  We had the best stand we'd ever had.  Everything looked great.  And then it wouldn't stop raining.  The corn looked great, the pumpkins started to suffer.  We fertilized. The grass became uncontrollable.  We sprayed.  We fertilized.  It kept raining.  We couldn't get in the field to do anything, everything started to drown.  Plants need water, but they also need air. The pumpkins drowned.  The corn faired better.  Then right before Florence our nearly daily rainfall stopped and we went a week without anything, then just got an inch, then another hot dry week.  Our crops had not developed the root system they should, because when you're getting fed every day without having to try you get lazy, an the same thing goes with plants.  The roots didn't have to dig as deep to find water so when the dry times came again the corn didn't have deep roots and suffered.  The result was the corn was uneven with a thinner stalk.  It chose this time to tassel. And then Florence.

     When we thought it was going to be a cat 4 we just assumed we'd all be wiped off the face of the Earth.  A cat 4 plus 15 inches of rain?  Apocalypse.  That would be like it Floyd and Fran got together and Florence was their daughter. Then it didn't strengthen where they thought it would and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.  But we were still forecast to get 15-20 inches of rain.  We weren't that worried about the wind.  We had a brush up from Irene in 2011 that blew the corn mighty bad.  We left that weekend to get strawberry tips and when we came back I was amazed. The pull of the sun had caused the corn to stand back up and we pulled out a great maze.  We'd had other brushes, but our corn had always been young and green enough to pull through.  Our biggest worry was flooding.  We knew we'd lose the sunflowers.  The wind would bruise the flowers and the flood would take them out.  We had to move Herbert.  Wind wasn't really our concern. 

Hurricane Irene's Maze

The stalks were bent from where they'd laid down but the maze overall survived fine.

     Friday morning at 6 I woke up to an alarm on my phone about a flood warning (by the end of the storm I wanted to burn that phone.  Dang tornado and flash flood warnings constantly at 2 and 3 am.  I don't think I slept a single night through) and I heard a weird noise outside.  I looked out of our window to see the greenhouse plastic flapping int he wind.  We'd worried about that plastic since it was getting old, but what can you do to save it?  We hurried outside in the half light of the morning as the wind gusted and we got wet through cutting the remaining plastic to save the structure of the green house and so that it wouldn't fly across the farm and land in someone else's yard.  It was then I started to worry about the wind.  We ended up losing a tree, and when we went to the farm again later that day (The Husband isn't the type to sit at home) the maze was flattened.  I'm sure it was a combo of the super saturated soils plus those wind gusts we got most of the day on Friday.  Our poor weak corn just couldn't stand up to that kind of punishment.  Once the wind was past here came the water.  This time we were fortunate that we didn't get as much, it didn't linger as long, and only a tiny fraction of the actual maze flooded.  Our worry now was it drowning from too much rain (we had 19 in our gauge) and no where for that water to go but sit in the field. 

Maze on Friday

Maze on Sunday, we were hopeful at this point because it had come up some.

     We decided not to get up in arms about the maze just yet.  After all the sun didn't start shining really until Tuesday and we knew it needed sun.  All week we watched and waited, sure it would come up.  Then yesterday we decided to walk out in it and see just how bad it was.  Well, there are areas that have come up to maybe chest high, but for the most part it was waist or lower.  We had to face reality and scrap the maze.  Morale was pretty dang low around here yesterday morning.  We'd babied that maze and kept up hope for weeks, and now this one storm out of our control has ruined it all.  Three years in a row our maze has not been up to our standards.  Another pumpkin patch lost.  They'd been so promising.  So pretty.  Gone.  It's so hard to try year after year, to plan and hope and try and do and work so, so hard and have it unravel right in front of your eyes.  We wanted to give up.  Why bother?  What does it mean to pour your every hope, all your free time, into something and have it fail?  This farm has become so ingrained in my being, it's like an emotional attachment to the land, and it's failed me.  For a moment we lost hope.  Maybe we should just give up on this thing.  And then I thought about all of the people around us, all the people who live in these communities who have lost everything.  This could have been my house.  What if I had a brick and mortar place under 8 feet of water?  What if the only part of my house you could see was the roof?  What if I'd had to have been airlifted from it?  The toll of their loss weighed on me and I realized while we were dejected and disappointed we were so fortunate.  I can't imagine losing...everything.

Saturday checking out the maze, and realizing it wasn't going to come back up.

     That's what puts it perspective for us.  We are so relatively lucky.  It could have been so much worse and is so much worse for so many others and my heart just breaks for them.  Will this fall be the fall we'd hoped it was?  No.  But does anything turn out the way you expect when you're planning?  No.  We will make it through this.  We started brainstorming immediately.  What can we add in place of this?  What else can we do?  And by the end of the day I started getting excited again, ready for fall and all it will bring.  We'll still have a small maze that we're cutting through the tallest bits of the field but it will be more like a 'kids maze' than a real corn maze.  We'll still have a good fall and our community and others like it will pull through this and come through the other side.  This too shall pass and tomorrow is another day. 

Ode to Winter

I know a lot of people like Spring because of the flowers and warmer weather and I know a lot of people like Summer because of the long days and flip flops and Fall's great because of the crisper air and football and pumpkins...but to me, the best season of all is Winter.  

I've loved Winter since I was a kid.  I can't really explain why I've gravitated to cold stark Winter.  Maybe it's because I love cold weather and snow (just maybe not in almost mid-March).  Maybe it's because I like rooting for the underdog and liking things most people overlook (and lets face it, around these parts most folks are all about flip-flops and nine o'clock bedtimes).  Maybe it's because I love comfort soups and stews and I can get by with cooking them more in the winter (The Husband is not as big of a soup and stew fan, but there is one I make every Saturday night that he absolutely adores: Shrimp Chowder.  Recipe to follow).  Maybe because it's so festive with Thanksgiving (my personal fave) and Christmas and New Years (and my birthday).  Who knows?  Maybe I'm just wired wrong or something.

Now that I'm grown (yikes!) and have started farming Winter brings a whole new meaning and I think I love it even more.  We close the farm at the end of fall and let out a collective deep breath.  I like to marinate on what we did this past year until after Christmas, and then we start planning.  It's the calm before the storm of Spring where we can decide what we want to do and what we want to add and plan it all on paper and have this wonderful idea of how we want the year to go before real life and the weather and time constraints mess it up.  It's the time where we can do a bit of traveling (mostly to meetings and conventions but it's traveling just the same.  This year we got to go to Lake Tahoe.  Lake Tahoe!).  It's the time where we can make plans with our kids and family without it having to revolve around what's happening at the farm this week.  It's a time where I can catch up on housework and cook things that take longer than thirty minutes.  It's a time of renewal and a time of hope.  

"What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?" John Steinbeck

Well, we have some exciting changes coming to the farm and a few new things we want to try and it all looks good on paper right now and we're very hopeful it's going to be great.  Now it's time to take that collective breath in, because we're in the last gasp of Winter here and Springs coming fast, and that means it's time to get out and get to work!

"There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature - the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter." Rachel Carson

As promised, here's my Shrimp Chowder recipe.  It's loosely based on one I found here by Sara Moulton (I'm a PBS nerd).  It's super easy and pretty quick to make, filling yet not heavy, and perfect for Saturday evenings at home.

Shrimp Chowder (I’d say it makes enough for a family of four or two very hungry adults.  If you’re feeding a crowd, I’d double.)

1 pound of shrimp (I go Atlantic Seafood on Royall and get the bag of already peeled and de-veined ones, because I’m lazy like that)

1 pound bacon (I really like Heritage Farms bacon even though it’s pricey.  It has amazing flavor.  Of course, any bacon will work.)

2 t butter

4-6 good hand-sized potatoes, I like the red ones.

2 stalks celery

½ onion

1-2 cloves of garlic, minced

3-4 tablespoons of flour, depending on how thick you want it.

2 cups of stock (I’ve used chicken, vegetable, or seafood, but currently I’m obsessed with making my own chicken stock so I’ve been using that.  I’ll include that recipe too.)

1 cup water (if I was using broth instead of stock I’d use 3 cups broth and no water)

2 cups milk

1 cup half-n-half or heavy cream, whatever you have.

Old Bay to taste

2 good pinches of dried thyme.

Salt and pepper to taste

Cook the bacon, I’ve done it all in one pot but I like to use a separate pan because the bacon grease can scorch if you have your heat too high and then you’ll have black bits in your white chowder.  Set the bacon aside and pour half to ¾ of your drippings in your soup pot and add the butter.  Once it’s melted add your chopped celery and onions and a good shake of salt and pepper.  Since I don’t like celery and onions and will pick them out I leave them big but you can cut them as small as you want.  Soon as they’ve softened some I had the flour.  I use two or three heaping soup spoons but it’s all what you want.  I let that cook a couple minutes until it starts to barely turn brown and I add the liquids. Once that’s combined I put in the potatoes, again, cut to how you like.  I try to go bite sized or a little more because the smaller they are the faster they cook and after I’ve cooked that bacon I’m starving.  Add the seasonings.  I like a lot of Old Bay so I probably put a tablespoon.  Once everything’s cooked through I add my shrimp and cook it until it’s just pink.  Sometimes I cut the heat off before I do this.  The longer they cook the more like rubber tires they will be.  I cut up a strip of crispy bacon and top with it.  YOU HAVE TO HAVE THE BACON.  It makes the chowder.  Enjoy!

Chicken Stock (I got this idea from Pioneer Woman, to give credit where it’s due)

1 small chicken (or the leftover bits and carcass from one you’ve baked)

½ - whole onion chunked

1 stalk celery chunked

1 large carrot chunked or 5-10 baby ones

1-2 cloves garlic, mashed

Water

Put the chicken in the crock pot and stuff the vegetables in.  I only really cut them so they’ll fit in my crock pot and I mash the garlic with my knife and peel it just to help release the flavor.  If I’m cooking this to make chicken soup with I add salt and pepper.  If it’s going to be strictly stock I don’t, so I can control the amount to seasoning when I actually make my dish.  I either do this right before I go to bed and cook it on low all night, or right when I get up and cook it on low all day.  I have done it at lunchtime for chicken soup and cooked it on high all afternoon.  There is no right or wrong.  It will make a stock so good and thick and flavorful you won’t go back  to the bottled stuff.  And it’s amazingly easy.